“When white people hear race, they think black, brown, red, and yellow; they don’t think white. That’s why white people can say, “Why don’t you people stop talking about race?” They believe that they are Americans. They don’t have a race. They think they don’t have a commitment to a particular ideology other than an ostensible neutrality and objectivity.” —Michael Eric Dyson
Dyson is describing civic nationalism. He might hear such pleas from conservatives and people who are squeamish about White identity in front of him. What does “American” mean any more? An Eritrean was recently hailed as the first American to win the Boston Marathon since [year]. You can’t even say I am a native American because that already means something else. All thirty two of your great-great-great-grandparents were born here and you aren’t a native American.
At the university, I pushed back on political correctness by relying on similar civic nationalism, my take being that our study of literature should focus on higher things, Matthew Arnold’s “best that had been said and thought” rather than the alien-sounding grievance poem by an ugly Chinese immigrant woman. I had little idea of identity then and I unquestioningly thought of myself as an American because I was white (lower case back then), responsible, hard-working, and an Army veteran.
That whole construction fell apart with the manic messages of inclusiveness, the dilution of the country with ongoing immigration, and the promotion of adversarial identity politics for everyone except us. White identity is a place we are being pushed to. Only an abject cuck, at this point — or a creature of habit and caked-up mental ear-wax — will look around and still insist that we are all Americans. What does American mean, if it officially means “everybody”?
We all experienced that moment when the immigration-invasion finally feels real. For one Irish-American, it happened last summer when the two of us drove into a state park and saw teeming masses of Mestizo families walking, pulling their coolers on their way to picnic. There were thousands of them. The shirtless men glared at us and the children were monstrously obese. It was like passing through a hostile foreign country.
Civic nationalism appears to be incoherent or dishonest because it is. But as recently as three decades ago it worked because it was a compromise that relied on a tacit agreement among U.S. citizens of all backgrounds that the national culture will be based on Protestant values, that Whites are going to be a solid majority with the responsibility of running the country, that minorities (such a quaint word now) will enjoy the fruits of our labor and retain a desired measure of autonomy while remaining respectful of the prevailing norms, and that immigrants, allowed in on a color-blind basis, will “assimilate.” Also — and this was key — that certain taboos will be honored in a let’s not discuss it way, said taboos hinging on the more uncomfortable realities of human biodiversity and Whites’ natural disgust with mixing.
That may have been workable in perpetuity as long as the numbers worked. But they had to open the borders, weaponize the blacks, open the borders some more, demoralize Whites, and openly declare a war of genocide against Whites.
When someone thirty years ago said: “Why don’t you people stop talking about race? can’t we all just be Americans?” — he was defending that civic nationalist arrangement I described above. People still say it out of habit or manners. But otherwise, nobody believes it any longer.
As Suburban_elk succinctly puts it, “[The Alt-Right] is quite simply the anecdote to that.” Under the pressure of neoliberalism, the European diaspora people of North America are securing their existence and a future for their children by discarding civic nationalism and developing a consciousness of their real identity. The future might be a great White Nation, or it can be a further refinement of identities along regional or cultural lines. Amazing things happen when people understand what they want and they go for it.